Hot Dog Poem

Hot dog: this is a series of sketches I still don't know what to do with

1

   Eating a hot dog with no underwear on: lots of little tongues
            coming off my tongue with  little tongues coming off of the tongues of their tongues,

            tongue-tied round hot dogs coming off my hot dog. 

“I ate a hot dog and then I sat on it," I said with one end of a hot dog in my ear 
            and one end in my  mouth.

Meanwhile, empirically,  hypotheses bely on the one hand
             two-bun-one-hot dog-nihilism, and on the other hand,
             two-hot dog-one bun idealism (practically mysticism),

So all-in-one I have found that the hot dog is one and the one

                            in my mouth wrapped in my tongue. Full of ideas,
                            my mouth. 

2

Hotly anticipated, the hot dog emerges

in a bun, my skin burning with

burning questions but last night, I discovered

that all this time, I have been IM-ing with a hot dog

“I didn’t realize that you were a hot dog.”

“This is a mistake.”

Hot dog: I keep forgetting that you’re a hot dog.

Tongue: Stop playing these games with me.

I closed my eyes, but it was all still there,

on the other side of the screen, a screen for

what?, my screen name—one side my eyes shut—

a hot dog sitting there with no underwear on

Why are you doing this?

I am echoing your sentiments, I am a hot dog

Heartworming tales, hot dog

Hot dog, you’re cold, you give my tongue worms

Hot dog, elaborate: I keep forgetting that you are a hot dog

I hope the hot dog was wearing a condom when I sat there, gagging on ignorance and pig intestines in porridge: hot dog, elaborated

Questions:

How do you spell hot dog, hotdog or hot dog

aborted orthographies, post-abortion hot dog

post-hot dog abortion

Tensions

Hot dog: I don’t know what you’re talking about

Tongue: I don’t know what you’re talking about

I alone am a hot dog, semantics

Alone, IM-ing with a hot dog

3

The loneliness. Feats of loneliness at a feast of loneliness trudging the streets of loneliness up to my room, lonely, look at the screen, out the window only to find that I’ve been IM-ing with a hot dog

All hot dog, one solid thing, arms, thighs, cheeks, sides, and insides, in little windows lit up a building one entire block seen from above. When I close my eyes it’s all there still, little letters lit up in little letters lit up in little letters, some of little like ‘k’ ‘c’ ‘u’

Hot dog city, a body, solid, a speck in the specter of fractilization made vast in a spectrum spanning two specks in discrete locations IMing a solid, discrete, and vast conversation—

made of all these little letters like ‘k’ ‘c’ ‘u’ like little lights on the sides

of a building block of a block of a vast hot dog city with windows lit up in little letters we lit little letters discrete, specks…